Charred Beauty
by atheart101
Summary: If you're reading this, then you've discovered something about the truth of Rosewood and it's led you here. Please understand that what we did, what I did, was out of the best intentions for the rest of the country. Judge us as you will, but please reserve that judgment until you've finished reading the story I've been asked to tell. *My own take on Beauty and the Beast*
1. Prologue

_**To Whom It May Concern:**_

If you're reading this, then you've discovered something about the truth of Rosewood and it's led you here. Please understand that what we did, what I did, was out of the best intentions for the rest of the country. Judge us as you will, but please reserve that judgment until you've finished reading the story I've been asked to tell.

There was a time when all was right and happy in the world. When my days were filled with song and laughter. When my life was brighter simply because my family was whole and complete. But things change they say, that's the nature of the beast. Beast. But what do people know of a beast's nature when they're too afraid to get close enough to find out?

Ever since my adolescence there's been tale of a wild beast that roams the countryside. It steals animals and scavenges farms. Personally, I never put much stock in these tales – what would a beast want with farm equipment, feed, or whatever it supposedly stole? It's a beast. The animals I understood, even monsters get hungry. Except that the only reduction in livestock numbers happened on market day. So there honestly wasn't much reason to believe in these stories, much less spread them around, unless of course you were a parent who wanted to warn your kids from wandering off at night, but mine were never the sort. Let's be serious, though. Me, the bookworm, wandering off on some adventure? Not likely. That's why I read books. Because nothing ever happens in Rosewood.

But I digress. Anyway, so there was this legend about the beast, right? The one that no one really believed was real but refused to say so just in case it was. Fear, it does strange things to people. And no one believed it less than I. Except for maybe Billy, but he's afraid to leave his house at all, so what would he know? So Billy excluded, I was of the opinion that the people of my town were crazy to be afraid of the woods that nearly completely surrounded our little town. Naturally they said the same about me, only for the opposite reason. Have I lost you yet? Because I think I'm confusing myself. I am going somewhere with this, I promise.

So. One afternoon my mother and I travelled into said woods where the beast was "known" to lurk in order to take a shortcut to the next town over, Clearshore. I know, weird name, right? Especially since they're landlocked. Anyway, Father needed new supplies for his next invention and I wanted a new book that our bookshop didn't carry, so Mother and I went on a little adventure through the woods. And you'll never believe what we discovered.

Absolutely nothing.

Oh don't look at me like that. Like I took away your hope. I did nothing of the sort. The beast wasn't rumored to appear until after nightfall anyway. Mother and I found out later that night that our town was right to fear the woods at night, though not entirely for the reason everyone believed.

To be honest, though, if there was one day in my entire life that I could take back as I look back on it, it would be this one. At least that night. If I could have only convinced Mother to stay in Clearshore for the night, then maybe it would have never happened. Or maybe if we'd never gone in the first place…

The only problem is that if this night were erased, my entire future would be as well. Erased and completely rewritten. And I honestly can't imagine my life working out any differently than it has. I read once that out of the worst pain and suffering comes the most brilliant life. Or something like that. So I don't hate the pieces of my past anymore. It led to my future. Anyway, I promise I'll explain everything, but right now, while you read my story, you need to know this one thing: I was wrong. The Beast exists. Don't go out to the woods at night. Don't even step outside your door. In fact, don't even open your door. Do and you'll die. Just trust me on this – you'll understand why.

Good Luck, Isabelle Caron


	2. Chapter 1

"Isabelle, darling, are you ready? We need to leave now if we want to be back before nightfall."

My mother's voice reaches me in my room up in the attic. I roll my eyes. Doesn't she know by now that it's me who's always waiting on her? And let me guess, Mother Dearest wants to take the scenic route to Clearshore today. On foot.

I pull on my boots and force a smile. "Coming, Mom, I just need to grab my purse." Somehow, smiling makes my voice lighter, a trick I learned to use with my mom years ago when I was most annoyed with her. Unfortunately, that seems to be all the time nowadays. I swear the woman gets clingier by the day. It's just college, so why does it seem to her like her world is falling apart? Sighing, I shove my list and a book in my purse and trudge downstairs. One of these days it will be for the last time.

"Ready," I tell her as I breeze by and out into the open air. I live in a small village way too far from the nearest city. Clearshore isn't even that great, but anything is better than Rosewood. The best, and only, part about this town is our resident monster. The terrifying beast that lurks the woods surrounding Rosewood and comes out at night to gobble up your children. Wooooo. I snort. Yeah right. Stuff like that doesn't exist in real life. That's why I prefer books. They're so much better.

I hear the door close behind me and turn to see Mom walking towards me. "Is it okay to walk to Clearshore today, Izzy? It's a beautiful day." Read: I haven't had enough time with you recently and you always read in the car. So I give her a tight smile in return.

"I put my boots on just in case, Mom. Let's go." And we do. Mom sets us off in the direction of the well-worn path to Clearshore. Well, I say well worn. It's more of a distinguished path nowadays. But my point still stands. Into the woods we go.

Honestly, I can't remember when my relationship with my mom fell apart. There wasn't some big fight and she didn't forbid me from doing something I really wanted to – she and I were never like that. In fact, Mom and I have always been rather close. But ever since I got accepted to Teller University, this unresolvable tension set in. I think it's gotten to the point where one is waiting for the other to break the ice. Maybe that's what this afternoon is about.

Joy.

"Izzy, I want to talk to you about Teller."

Mom always knew how to work her way into a conversation. "Mom, we've talked about this before. Hundreds of times! I don't understand why you're so worked up over this."

"It's on the other side of the country, Isabelle. I know you like your independence, but is two thousand miles necessary to retain it?"

"Mom it's the only school that allows me to major in my dream profession! If you'd only look at the classes you'd see—"

"There are plenty of schools that that have a creative writing program; why can't you go to one of them?"

"Mom, I'm not running off to the other side of the country because I want to get away. The other programs aren't as great at Teller's. You've always said you wanted the best for me."

"Honey, that hasn't changed, but I know you. You always called home to chat and say goodnight at sleepovers. How will you do thousands of miles away from us?"

"Well how about instead of telling me I can't do it, you give me the chance to see if I can," I challenge before stomping off. Probably not my best moment, but I'm only eighteen. And besides, I'm pretty sure it makes my point because a few moments later I realize my mom isn't following. Left her wallowing in her own guilt didn't I, I think smugly.

But when she still doesn't follow a minute later, my own guilt crops up and I turn back. It's not like I want to be this way, all attitude and anger, but how else do I make her see? I tried polite conversation the first time around. Clearly it didn't work if it's escalated to yelling and stomping around in a forest, right?

"Mom?" I call out when I reach the spot where I left her. Abandoned. This isn't good. "Mom!" It comes out more panicked than I intended, but my mind flies to the stories about these woods and suddenly all I want is for the two of us to be safely out of them.

She comes crashing beck from the direction I ran off in. "Isabelle Caron! Don't you dare run off on me like that again! You are not an immature child anymore so don't act like one. Do you have any idea how scared I was? Whether or not the rumors are true, this forest can be dangerous at night."

My heart rate begins to settle and I realize. Okay, so maybe point not made. Great, now Mom's even more made at me. At least I have the good sense to be chagrined. Like I said, probably not my best move. Especially in these woods.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I really am. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just so tired of having this conversation. All I want is your support on this."

Mom's features softened and she pulled me in for a hug. "You have it, Iz. Both your dad and I know you're capable of something like this. I'm just going to miss you so much."

I smiled into her shoulder. This is the Mom I've been missing. "Thanks, Mom."

Compared to our little jaunt in the woods, Clearshore is rather uneventful. Mom and I go to the hardware shop for Dad's necessary supplies and then hit the bookstore. She and I both leave with new books, matching smiles on our faces. Who knows, maybe things really are looking up for our relationship.

I don't know, maybe I should learn how to knock on wood.

"Did the time change when we were inside?" Mom asks as we make our way to the trail leading back to Rosewood. "It's getting dark quickly."

I shuffle the books in my arms to look down at my watch. "No, we were just in the bookshop far longer than we thought." Mom and I in a bookstore together, a rather bad idea looking back on it. Time always gets away from us in the library, as miserly as it is, so us surrounded by new books? Time doesn't even exist.

Mom shoots me an uneasy look she tries to cover up with confidence. I roll my eyes in her direction and head into the forest. "Mom, nothing is out there to prey on us. It's a ten minute hike to the other side, what could happen?"

Mom sends a you-should-be-careful-what-you-say look and I shake my head and chuckle. I mean really, it's just a stupid legend that people only believe in because they have nothing better to do. A wild beast that haunts our little village, stealing crops and children at its own convenience? Please.

"Nevertheless, Isabelle, I'd rather not get caught in the woods at dark. We could lose our way."

See, now there's a sensible concern. But about halfway through our journey I hear a twig snap to our left. The forest goes eerily silent. Another twig snaps. Closer this time.

Mom pushes me ahead of her and we break into a run.

The sun hasn't completely set, but with the tree cover and the dense forest it may as well have. Maybe that's why it takes me gasping for breath for me to recognize it.

Smoke.

The forest is on fire.

Mom realizes it about the same time I do. "Don't stop, Izzy, keep going," she coughs out.

"Mom," I croak out, tears dripping down my face and mixing in with the grime from the smoke. I think there are ashes in my hair. "I think we're getting closer to the fire."

She yanks on my arm, causing me to spill the books and Dad's supplies. A part of my brain mourns the loss of my new adventures; I know Dad would rather us live than receive his new instruments so those don't bother me as much. I almost bend down to grab the books, but the other side of my brain kicks into survival mode and I chase after Mom instead as she rushes in a new direction away from the fire crashing through the forest. She's dropped her belongings, too. Why did we choose today of all days to go to Clearshore? Panic lances through me as we run and I miss the sorrow and fear that fly across my mother's face.

"Isabelle." Mom reaches for my hand. "Stay with me. We're going to outrun this."

I should have known then. It's like those times when adults tell you everything's going to be fine when it isn't. Because I was always the runner in the family, not Mom. And certainly not Dad. And it's not like you can outrun fire anyway.

What I wished I'd known then is that we weren't even trying to outrun a fire. We were trying to outrun the people who'd set it. Maybe things would have turned out differently had we known that.


	3. Chapter 2

"Isabelle." Mom reaches for my hand. "Stay with me. We're going to outrun this."

We interlace our fingers just to make sure we stick together. Of course, since I'm the runner of the family I end up pulling her along behind me. No amount of terror and adrenaline can make up for the stamina I've built up over the last few years, but it helps. Mom pushes herself until we're running side by side.

"How do we outrun a fire?" I pant. I can feel the heat behind me and the crackle and pop of the flames are getting louder.

"We find…water…and…stay there," Mom gasps out. I nod and tug her left where I know a stream to be.

A hand reaches out from the dark. My mom disappears.

My eyes open in a flash and I regain consciousness in the gray light of the morning coughing, my head fuzzy with the dissipating smoke. On the edge of my consciousness I could swear I hear a woman scream. But that could just be a residual memory from my dream of last night.

Last night. Flashes of memory bombard my brain. Heat and flame, terror as we run, Mom holding my hand tightly, Mom disappearing.

Not a dream.

Mom.

I gasp in fear as I try to rise and a coughing fit sends me back to the forest floor. Gazing around wildly from my vantage point I try to pick out the blue of Mom's sweater or the golden tint of her brown hair. But there's nothing. No sign of life anywhere except my own. I try to collect my hazy thoughts and piece together the events that happened after Mom and I had to change course, but I just can't think in this smog.

Eventually I rise and start my search. I am not going back home until I find Mom. But after what feels like hours of tripping over roots and chasing shadows, I begin to lose hope. And then a twig snaps behind me. It brings forth a memory.

Snapping twigs that started the fire. No, wait, that doesn't make sense. But shadows behind the flames do. The men who snapped the twigs started the fire.

There is something else, niggling at the back of my mind, but I whirl quickly behind a nearby tree and push the feeling away. Peering out from my hiding place, I see two men pass, a makeshift sled pulling behind them. An arm had fallen out from under the blanket covering the body. I thought that only happened in movies. And then horror strikes me – the arm is clad in blue. Mom's blue sweater. Is that blood dripping off her fingertips?

A strange mixture of nausea, fear, and rage overtakes me and I begin to shake. I latch onto a branch to keep myself standing. I decide to wait for them to pass before I take action, though what I can do I'm not sure. All I know is that I must make sure it isn't Mom so I can keep looking for her. It just—it can't be her. Right? It can't be. It's Mom; she can't die. She can't die. She can't die. She. Can't. Die.

I startle at the sound of the men's voices and clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from making any noise. "Reckon we'll find the girl?" One asks as they pass by my tree.

"We can't keep lugging her mother around if we're gonna keep looking for her," the other answers. "Damn woman, pushing the girl down the hill just before we caught her. It don't matter that she's the one we were after, Joe. If the girl's half as smart as her mom, she'll piece things together. He'd want us to take care of her too."

"Why'd the Caron woman cross the boundary if she knew that he'd send—"

"Shh, Joe. Did you hear that?"

I look down at my foot in horror, the little betrayer. I'd stepped on a twig in my attempt to get closer to the men who'd murdered my mother. I'm planning on dealing with that life-changing, horrific fact later. Like after I slit their throats. I should probably find a knife. I quickly dart back behind the tree before the unnamed man turns around.

"Probably just a squirrel or somethin', Royce," Joe said, waving him back. "Come on, let's drop her off back at the house and then look for the girl."

Royce lifts his hat from his head and combs his hair back before replacing the hat as he returns to his partner. "Alright, Joe." And they head off.

I move to follow them after a few moments, but my body gives way and I crumple to the forest floor instead. Sobs begin to rack my body as my shock wears out. I just—I can't. My mom—she's…oh my god. Oh my god. Mom. I start sobbing as reality begins to set in.

I try to stay quiet, knowing my would-be captors could return any minute, but even curling up into a ball and burying my head in my crossed arms couldn't muffle everything. Eventually, I manage to wrestle my tears under control. My body shudders one last time as I take in a deep breath and stand to my feet. I hastily wipe my face and tie back my hair. I look down the path Joe and Royce took with my mom's body. Their final comments wash over me and I turn in the opposite direction.

Towards home.

My mom is dead. Killed by the men who are currently dragging her to some house in the woods. I've seen enough horror movies to know what happens if I follow them, no matter how much I want to. Because right now my dad needs me more than my mom.

And I need to stay alive so I can bring the man behind my mom's murder to justice.

At least, that's what my foggy brain is trying to tell me. The rest of me just wants to curl up into another ball. My mother is dead.

It takes me a while, but I finally stumble back onto the trail that leads me home. Home. One that is now broken. Silent tears make their way down my face and I stop trying to wipe them away. I'm not sure they ever ceased. I'm not sure they ever will. I pause in the clearing at the mouth of the trail, straighten my shoulders, and try and walk as calmly as possible to my house, ignoring the stares of the villagers as I pass by. I focus instead on the random thought running circles in my head. I wonder if our new books survived the fire. I've heard that happens to people in shock. Am I in shock? I'm sure I look terrible with torn and bloodied clothing and soot in my hair. This will help my village-wide reputation of being a little odd.

My dad runs out the front door to meet me as I walk up the driveway. "Isabelle! Oh my darling girl I was so worried about you! You've been gone all night and the woods—where's your mother? Why are you so disheveled? Honey, you have twigs in your hair. And all these scrapes and bruises. What did you get into?"

I open my mouth to try to answer the easiest question. But 'oh I spent the night on the forest floor because Mom pushed me down a hill while we were outrunning lunatic assassins who set the forest on fire' doesn't come out. A sob does. I collapse into my father's arms.

Dad holds me tight and strokes the back of my head. But his voice trembles when he asks, "Izzy, where's your mom? Where's Elaine?"

"She—they—Dad," I sob, incoherent. He holds me and murmurs soothingly in my ear until I'm calmer. "They killed her, Dad. She's gone."

"Who, honey, who killed her?" Dad asks, frantic and clutching my face. He searches my eyes, but I shake my head and lean into him once more. "Sshhh, Izzy, it's gonna be okay." But his tears soon soaking my hair belie his words.

As though I needed proof. Everything changed after that night.

Everything is a daze the rest of the day. Dad leads me into the house, shooing off curious neighbors as he shuts the door behind us. Then his arms are around me again and he takes me into the kitchen. He puts a glass of water in front of me. I think I'm supposed to drink it but my body won't move. I'm broken. Catatonic. Just one thought running through my head. My mom is dead.

"Izzy. Izzy?" Dad shakes my shoulder. I lift my eyes to his. "Honey, can you drink that? You need water."

But I just stare into the clear liquid instead. I think I mumble some sort of an apology, though I'm not sure whether it's because I let Mom die or because I can't seem to make my arm work to drink the water. Either way, Dad's quick, solid hug tells me he blames me for neither.

The next time I become aware of my surroundings is in my bed. I must have taken a shower because my hair is wet. And it's dark out so the day is gone. Day one without my mother. I unconsciously wipe the tears off my face and pull the covers over my head.

It's something I used to do as a young girl after a nightmare. It's a well-known fact when you're young that if you can't see the monster then it can't see you either and there is no safer place than under the covers. After making sure no toes or strands of hair were sticking out from underneath my trusty floral print, I'd call and call for my parents. I think they must have drawn straws because a different parent showed up each time. My mom would come in quietly and stroke my hair through the blanket until I peeped my head out. Then she'd smile and show me her handy-work. "No more monsters in here, Bella girl," she'd tell me. My dad was a different story. He'd throw open the door, frantic, and would search my room until we were both sure the monsters were gone. We'd peer under my bed together and when he smiled, so would I. That's how I knew I was safe.

I know tonight, however, that no amount of searching by either of us would chase this monster away. I don't know how I'll ever wake up from this nightmare. All I want is for my mom to coax me out from underneath my blanket with her soft voice and gentle smile, say, "No monsters in here, Bella girl," and crawl into bed with me until the sun wakes up. I want this all to be a terrible dream.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," I whisper through my tears.

I fall to sleep around the same time my tears subside. Hopefully I won't have many left to cry.

Mom cries as a masked figure yanks her back by her hair.

"Mom!" I cry out, skidding to a stop. I turn around, grab her hand and tug just as she elbows her abductor.

I push her in front of me this time and we head toward the stream. But a blaze of fire whips in front of us and we're forced to change direction. Again.

"Keep running, Isabelle," Mom commands, "And don't you dare stop."

I hear crashing sounds from behind me and know that more than one man is after us now. I put on a burst of speed and push Mom from behind, only to realize we were coming to the top of a steep hill. Damn these woods. We'll have to slow down and they'll catch us for sure.

Mom slams on the brakes and catches my arms as I almost catapult into her. "Mom, what are you doing? We have to hurry or they'll catch us!" I most definitely plan on asking questions later. Like, who the hell are these guys and why are they after us?

"I'm sorry, Bella girl, but they won't look for you if they have me."

"But they don't have to have you at all! Mom, we don't have time for this, come on!" I try to tug on her arm.

"I love you," she tells me instead. Then she shoves me down the hill. The impact jars the air out of my lungs and my head slams back on the forest floor. I start rolling just as everything goes dark.

"Mom!" I cry out as my eyes wrench open. I almost shoot out of bed when a hand stops me. I scream and try to back away but my dad's voice calls out to me.

"Isabelle! Isabelle! It's me, it's Dad." He pulls me in for a hug until I stop struggling. "Oh Iz, honey, I'm sorry."

"Dad," I croak out. We hold onto each other and I begin to calm down. "I'm sorry, Dad. If I hadn't gotten mad in the woods then we would've been able to leave Clearshore sooner and we would've been back in time. She'd be here now if—"

"Isabelle, don't you dare," Dad interrupts. "I miss her more than anything, but this is not your fault. The police will take care of this; we'll find out what happened. And we'll get through this together." He kisses the top of my head. "Go back to sleep, Izzy. I'll keep you safe."

He gets comfortable on my bed and opens his arms. I curl into his side and close my eyes. I'm asleep again in minutes. And this time it isn't masked men and heart-wrenching goodbyes that plague my dreams. I'm simply trapped in a maze of darkness, the light of my mother too far gone to show me the way home.


End file.
